


Five Times Adelaide Hawke Spelled Anders Name Wrong (And One Time She Didn't)

by TrouserFreeTuesday



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, basically a bunch of aus lumped into one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrouserFreeTuesday/pseuds/TrouserFreeTuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adelaide doesn't get many pleasures in life, so she take what she can get by causing petty annoyances to people trying to order coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Adelaide Hawke Spelled Anders Name Wrong (And One Time She Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> To Rimah, who puts up with my onslaught of typos.

 

**1.**

She'd kissed him once.

Now, at twenty two, that wasn't such a strange occurrence. Adelaide Hawke had kissed lots of people. But when she'd kissed him, fresh out of the house at nineteen, it had been something. It was hard to decide exactly what that something was, though. Because he hadn't been her first kiss. That had gone to the neighbour in Lothering with the broken leg and freckled cheeks. This had been different. It was at a ridiculous themed dorm party, thrown at Meredith Hall (a surefire sign that it was going to be out of control). Adelaide had gone in an old Wizard's costume she'd bought at a thrift store earlier in the day. It smelled like mothballs, and the pointed hat looked like it had been run over by a car. Isabella said it made her look "authentic". As if there was such a thing as authentic witch fashion. Isabela had dressed like a pirate. An inauthentic pirate, at that. Adelaide may not have studied history but she was fairly sure that pirates wore pants. Isabela was wearing none, instead she wore a very short dress - or just a longer tunic, it was a fine line that Isabela was dangerously treading - and she was quite loud about the fact there was nothing under it.

In the years to come, Adelaide would learn that this party wasn't out of the ordinary for Kirkwall University. However, as a girl from Lothering, this party looked ludicrously big. It was nothing like the parties in movies, of course. The music wasn't thumping so loudly that the rooms shook, and no one had tied their necktie around their forehead, and it wasn’t quite as crazy as she'd been led to believe. Most people were sitting and chatting - loudly and drunkenly, of course, but no one was running around and there was a noticeably lack of grinding.

Isabella, a few years older and a few drinks drunker, had pointed out everyone she knew like they were head of state. There was Zevran, already making out with a pretty brunette in the corner, and Isabella had whistled encouragingly in their general direction. Zevran didn't even bother breaking away when he flashed Isabella a thumbs up. Varric was on a couch, surrounding by impressed looking freshman. Adelaide had already met Varric once. He was a T.A. in Professor Philliam's Creative Writing class. Adelaide had attended about three classes before she decided it wasn't for her. Varric seemed to talk constantly, both in and out of class. He gave both Isabella and Adelaide a familiar nod before returning to his tale. He was spinning some big, ridiculous tale about a group of alumni who had defaced the school's old dragon statue.

And then there was Fenris, in a corner, scowling like he'd smelled something awful.

"He'll warm up after a few drinks," Isabella had remarked. "Or, once I get my hands on him."

Adelaide shoved Isabella, jokingly.

The Chargers had taken up the center of the room, creating some sort of black hole that sucked in exclusively the prettiest students. Isabela had held onto Adelaide's arm as they circled them. "You are not nearly drunk enough to near there."

Adelaide decided to remedy that. And she'd like to say that she reached the perfect level of drunk, where everything was just pleasantly warm and fuzzy. But she did not. Instead she took temporary residence by the snack table, hoarding cheese and making small talk to anyone who just wanted to grab a pretzel and get out.

"Oh, him?" Isabella said, with a small laugh. "He's fun. Most of the time. If he starts talking about his manifesto, just leave. It's not a metaphor and you really don't want to hear all about it." She shoved Adelaide towards him with another laugh, and added, "Go chat him up, Ade-laid."

 

And then one thing led to another, and that led to them making out in a janitors closet until the police shut the party down (Some idiots had started launching firecrackers off the roof of the building). All things considered, it wasn't a bad first foray into college life.

So, she'd kissed him, and now she was staring at him from across Kirkwall's Koffee House's counter three years later. And he was giving her a blank stare and a polite smile, the kind of thing reserved for strangers and food service workers. Adelaide wondered if he recognized her. After three years she could recognize him, he didn't look that different than she remembered him. But then, she hadn't spent their twenty minutes in a dark closet memorizing the planes of his face. She didn't think she looked much different. Her dark hair had been cut shorter, and she a new tattoo on her arm but her face was still the same. Of course, she could just ask, remind him. But something about his face and that frustratingly blank smile made her decide, well fuck it.

She fixed him with politest, blandest smile (the one she normally reserved for Meredith on the rare occasion when she came in), and asked, "What can I get for you today?"

He rubbed his face. "Just a large coffee, black."

After a moment spent digging in his jacket pocket, he tossed a handful of change onto the counter. "That should cover it."

It was not a well-kept secret that Adelaide hated counting change. Everything, literally everything, went on her debit card. So she swept the change into her palm and dumped it in the register without a second glance.

It was a Tuesday. All bets were off on Tuesday's.

"And your name?" Adelaide asked, even though she already knew.

"Anders," he replied. He looked as if he were about to start spelling it out, but Adelaide had already started writing on the cup in squeaky black sharpie.

Adelaide tried to hide her delight as Corff placed the cup on the pick-up counter and called out, "Large black coffee for Anderson?"

Anders was staring at Corff, eyebrows furrowed. "Do you mean Anders?"

It was hard to hear over the hum of the coffee maker and the whirring sound of milk frothing, and the cook shit-talking his prep guy in the back room, but Adelaide conveniently 'found' a coffee spill to clean up closer to the pick-up counter.

"Sure," replied Corff with a shrug, handing Anders the coffee. "Have a nice day."

Anders took it, gave the cup a displeased look, and left.

 

 

Aveline worked Wednesday nights. Normally, Adelaide didn't mind sharing shifts with her; Aveline was a hard worker, and a fair manager. This was part of the problem. Adelaide was, by principal alone, not a particularly hard worker.

This was a bit of a sore spot, for Aveline. She had a history with the place. The previous manager had been fired, just shortly before Aveline took the job. The previous manager was never mentioned. Ever. Adelaide had tried to ask about him once. And just once. Because then Aveline had gone on a long rant about fair management practices and no one wanted to relive that. Aveline was righteous, and scary, thankfully worked the morning shift most days.

But this meant that when Anders dropped another handful of change onto the counter, Adelaide had to count it properly. Lest she invoke a lecture on proper customer service from Aveline.

"Alright," Adelaide said. "So that's...twenty five...thirty...." She counted slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. By the time she'd counted out the whole $2.50, even she was frustrated with herself. This is what she got for cheating on every math test in high school. She heaved a sigh of relief when she dumped the change into the register. Anders was staring at her with a guilty look on his face.

"Sorry." He offered a small smile.

"S'okay." Adelaide grabbed a cup.  "Name?"

"Anders." He said it a bit more forcefully this time.

Adelaide smiled brightly. "Got it! It'll be ready at the next counter in just a moment."

Anders smiled, again the polite distant smile, and continued along in the line. It was the polite smile that got her, she figured. Something about the total lack of recognition irked her beyond a reasonable point. She was being totally unreasonable, she knew it. He was older, he'd probably drunkenly made out with plenty of people. Adelaide was fairly certain that Isabela had already had her way with him. And she probably wasn't the most memorable kisser at nineteen. There were lots of reasons that it was ridiculous to be pissed about this. But she had fond memories of that weird, smelly janitor’s closet and her first university party. And there he was, smiling blandly. Adelaide adjusted her beanie, and grabbed a sharpie.

She didn't get to be petty about a lot of things.

Adelaide slid the coffee across the counter into Aveline's waiting hand. Aveline never looked impressed when Adelaide did that, her eyebrows always narrowed and her lips always pursed. Still, she also always caught whatever slid her way.

 

"Large black coffee for...” Aveline paused, giving the cup a second confused glance. "And...Andar?"

Adelaide snickered.

"Anders, actually," he corrected. "Thanks."

He looked at his cup, and gave a sigh so visible Adelaide could actually see his shoulders move. An impatient law student, desperately wanting a pumpkin spice latte, kept Adelaide from laughing too loudly.

Once Anders was out the door (this time he actually gave Adelaide a squint-eyed on his way out the door), Aveline slammed - she always slammed \- her hand on the counter.

"What the hell was that?"

"What the hell was what?"

Aveline gave her a look. Stern, unimpressed. Very Aveline. "You know what. And more importantly, you know how to spell."

"Really? Adelaide interrupted. "Why had no one told me that before?"

Aveline's eyes almost rolled back into her head. "Stop being a smartass, Hawke. We're at least supposed to try and spell our customers names right.”

The next time it happened, Adelaide made sure Aveline wasn't around.

 

 

 

 

Kirkwall's Koffee House was a busy place. And before getting all snippy about the name (which, admittedly, Adelaide thought was dumb too), it was originally Kirkwall’s Koffee Korner, until someone with a better grasp of acronyms stepped in and had it changed.

It wasn’t the cheapest coffee anyone in town was going to get, but it was the closest to the university's main campus. While, arguably, you could walk the extra three blocks and get better and cheaper coffee no one seemed to think it was worth it. Preying on student’s inherent laziness seemed to be a profitable business. Some profit-minded students had begun a snack-time delivery service. With its own app. Perfect for the lazy, and the socially anxious. Adelaide wasn't proud to admit she'd used it once or twice.

Or more than that.

The Koffee House was small, and cozy, with brown armchairs by the windows and a faux-brick fireplace in the corner. The tables weren't always full, but around the time class got out the line sure as hell was. On busier days, or during exam, the line could sometimes stretch through the door. Adelaide felt it was basically Starbucks without the Norah Jones. Instead, the Koffee House played the school's radio. 96.5 Kirkwall U - Where We Play Music For You. Different students could plan different segments, often with little regard for sensibility.

Weekend afternoons featured a special segment, _Darktown_. A guy named Samson hosted it, and his entire goal seemed to be making his listeners as sad as possible. Haunted, depressing songs played over the speakers all Saturday afternoon. Adelaide had a love/hate relationship with weekends because of this. Hate, because she spent most Saturday's wanting to go cry and write sad poems in the staff bathroom. And she worked alone between the lunch and dinner rush, so even if that was something she really wanted to do she couldn't. Love, because at 3:55 every day, Samson signed off with, "Have a lovely afternoon, I'll be back tomorrow with some new hits in the acoustic indie world. And now, Katy Perry's _Firework_. Enjoy."

It was the little things.

She was bobbing along absently to the song at the register when Anders walked in. Adelaide stopped bouncing, and tried to pretend she was too cool for Katy Perry. He paused when he noticed her. Tightened his scarf around his neck, and stood up a bit straighter. By this point Adelaide had accepted he just had no idea who she was.

 This time, he seemed to make a point of spelling his name.

"A-N-D-E-R-S" He said, patronizingly.

"Got it!" Adelaide replied brightly. He didn't look like he believed her.

This time, she wrote "Andy".

 

 

**4.**

"Do they play this song every weekend?" Anders asked her.

It had been a week, and Samson had made everyone in the cafe look suitably downcast. Katy Perry was just making it weird. Adelaide was actually looking forward to Professor Wynne's snore fest of an evening segment. Classical Hits, with long-winded speeches on the historical significance of each piece, or just unneeded trivia. Did you know that Beethoven would count out sixty coffee beans when he brewed it? Because Adelaide did. And she didn't want that knowledge, but she had it.

"Like clockwork," she said, with a sigh. Like she was tired of Katy Perry. Like she would ever be tired of Katy Perry. "Large coffee?"

Anders blinked. Surprised. "Yes, please."

Maybe she just had a good memory. Maybe that's why she remembered Anders, and stupid music facts about genres she didn't care about, and any regular customers drink order. Varric liked Americanos, Isabela anything sweet and chocolatey. Zevran liked chai (Lattes, tea, cake. _Anything chair)._ And he would order it with a weird, lecherous smile. He was just like that, Isabela always said. Stuck in this weird state of perpetual flirting.

Fenris's though, that was the best. Large Caramel Frappuccino, with whipped cream and cinnamon and chocolate flakes on top. She snickered a little bit each time he ordered it in that gravelly voice of his. He always ordered it angrily too. Like he was mad he liked it, or embarrassed he had to say it.

And Anders liked black coffee, and people remembering his name. Because this time he really stressed, "For Anders." If you could underline something with your voice, that's what he was trying to do.

"Got it," she said again. Anders, this time, didn't look convinced. In fact, he tried to crane his neck around to see what she was writing. Adelaide made a point of turning the cup away from him.  "It'll be ready at the pickup counter in just a moment."

It was one of those rare moments where no one was trying to coffee, and no one was waiting on drinks. So when Adelaide got to the pick-up counter with his coffee, he was literally the only person waiting there. Still, she made a point of looking around and announcing. "Large black coffee for..." she looked at the cup. Even she couldn't read the writing, it was all over the place. Slipping up and down in weird shapes. "Anne?"

Anders looked around. Then he looked at her. His head cocked to the side, blond hair falling over his eyes, as if asking "are you joking?"

"Here you go, sir," she said, full of positivity in the way only a weary customer service employee can manage. The kind of positivity that screamed. 'Take it and go'.

"Thanks," he said, and clearly only half meant it.

 

 

Adelaide wasn't working the till tonight. Corff was. Corff looked about fully done with the world today, and each order was met with a flat 'coming up'. Exams were starting to approach the students, and it caused a visible change in the atmosphere. Suddenly everyone wanted as much caffeine as they could handle, and students sat hunched over their notes around the cafe. It was a sort of desperate feeling Adelaide did not miss.

"I've never been happier to be done school," she remarked to Corff during a slow moment. Corff rolled his eyes in agreement.

The rush was almost never ending. Weekday afternoons were the busiest during the school year. Lots of students, all the time, all desperate for a caffeine fix. And everyone was irritable. Adelaide couldn't even keep track of how many drinks she made, and how often someone snapped "How much longer is this going to take?” It meant she didn't quite notice when Anders walked in, until she was holding his cup in her hands. With his name written properly on it. That wouldn't do. With the frustrated chatter of impatient students behind her, she grabbed a second Sharpie and worked her magic.

"Large coffee for Anders!"

He turned the cup over his hands, looking almost impressed. Until he got to the end. It wasn't anything big, considering the time crunch, but it was petty and Adelaide was proud of it. "Ander's". So small. So insignificant. And hopefully, so annoying to Anders. Being this thrilled over an apostrophe was probably not a good thing.

He gave his cup a bemused stare, huffed a small, breathy laugh. Adelaide expected him to say something, but instead he just gave her a wry smile and left.

Which was less than satisfying.

 

(And the One Time She Didn't)

 

 

 

Adelaide's third year had been rough.

It had been one thing wrong after the other, and between working three (super shitty) jobs, a full course-load, and Carver getting sick it was truly a miracle Adelaide didn't totally lose it. She'd passed (barely), and was coping with the rest of it. The point being, though, that Adelaide knew what falling towards rock bottom looked like. It was frizzy, unbrushed hair, and sallow cheeks and eye bags so big you looked sickly. There was a sort of air of desperation to it, too. Isabela had said Adelaide had looked like she was drowning - struggling just a little bit too hard to do anything properly. She'd fill up a cup with coffee, then immediately add a tea bag, or bring her Intro to Bio textbook to every class, even though she'd already taken biology two years ago. Everything was a blur of stress, and anxiety. Thankfully, she had gotten through it. And Carver had too, so that meant he could sit around Kirkwall's Koffee House and make jokes at Adelaide's expense.  She almost didn't mind.

"Can't you go bug Bethany?" Adelaide asked, after a third comment about her life choices (or lack thereof). "Or...literally anyone else. Call mother. I know you haven't talked to her in a few weeks."

Carver rolled his eyes. "Bethany doesn't make me coffee, and mother is just going to ask if I have a girlfriend."

Adelaide grinned. Slightly. "Does this make me you favourite family member, then?"

"You still have Gamlen to compete with, sis. Don't get a big head."

Ouch. Adelaide placed a hand over her heart. Gamlen was a bit of a sore spot in the Hawke's family history. Lots of gambling, lots of drinking, lots of offhand remarks about being second place to Leandra. Lots of fun.

It was the middle of exam week, which was why Carver was lurking around. Avoiding studying, most likely. Adelaide had no complaints about the company. Corff got crankier around exam time. Everyone got crankier around exam time. Adelaide could relate, and she tried to always be politer to the ones who looked like they were about one second from falling apart. Unless they were rude. Then they got an extra pump of syrup, or incorrectly spelled names. Nothing to jeopardize her job, just enough to be a slight inconvenience.

 

Corff was working the till again, which meant Adelaide was only distantly aware of the clatter of change that signaled Anders order. Large black coffee, paid for by couch cushion change. Like always. Adelaide actually only noticed him when she had looked up to make a remark to Carver (who always stood resting his hip against the pick-up counter).

He looked like shit.

And that was putting it lightly.

His chin was patched with stubble, like he hadn't shaved in several days. He scratched at it, absently. It looked like he hadn't slept properly in a few days, either. He had that kind signature weary blank stare that looked like he was still mentally in bed. Normally, too, Anders dressed like a normal human being. Adelaide hadn't realized how used she'd gotten to see him in jeans and cardigans until now. Sweats and worn out hoodies didn't suit him. Neither did the mismatched cat socks and crocs, but that was a whole other can of worms. He looked like some kind of lost vagrant. Frowning, looking around the place like he was lost. It was kind of sad, really.

Adelaide sighed. This wouldn't do.

She grabbed a sharpie, and worked some of her magic. It was probably irresponsible, considering the rush, but he looked like he really needed a pick me up. And Adelaide hadn't had much of a chance to flex her art muscles recently. Any excuse to show off her cartoon cats, really. Back in high school she and Bethany had made a whole comic about talking cats that had been a hit in Lothering High's school paper. So, that’s what Anders got. Mostly because it was really all Adelaide could draw, and partly because he just looked like cat person. And, because she still though “cheer up right meow” was kind of an adorable pun.

She slid the cup of coffee across the counter, followed by a loose handful of change. It was a vague hope that her tips from the night could amount of roughly the cost of coffee. Lord knows she wouldn’t be counting. Carver took one look at the cup and scowled.

"Large coffee for Anders," she announced. She could see the look of worried of anticipation on his face. Despite the other customers complaining about the wait time, it was worth it to see his face lighten. "On me," she added, quietly. The other customers couldn’t get the idea that this was a thing she did.

"Thanks." He said. Softly. It wasn't the kind of generic thanks given to just anyone. There was a warmth there, he meant it. Which meant when Adelaide smiled back, she meant that too.

"Don't mention it." She said. "Seriously, don't. I have some street cred to maintain."

Carver snorted in disbelief.

Anders laughed. "Don't worry, I won't be tarnishing your reputation."

"Perfect." She flashed him another kind smile, before assuring the man behind him it would be just another moment. "Besides, I was running out of alternatives to Anders."

"I liked Annie."

"Come on, stop flirting. Some of us have places to be." That was Isabela, protesting loudly from the back of the line. She was scowling, furiously, at the back of Anders head.

"I should probably go. See you around." Anders raised his cup in lieu of a wave.

 

Carver had some questions. Naturally.

"I've never seen you be that nice to a customer."

"He looked like a sad hobo, Carver. I felt bad for him."

"Sure, okay, but the name thing?"

So Adelaide gave him the Sparks Note version, a sanitized one that glossed over the gory details. Regardless, when she finished he was still giving her a look. A Carver look. Lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed. Adelaide couldn't tell if he was thinking really hard, or just grossed out by her story.

After a moment, Carver finally said, "You don't normally put that much effort into annoying people you don't like."

Adelaide shrugged. Maybe he was right.

She wanted to kiss him again.


End file.
